


Live Coverage

by Ginger Jam (skylite), skylite



Series: Day of Judgement [3]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-23
Updated: 1999-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:59:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylite/pseuds/Ginger%20Jam, https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylite/pseuds/skylite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The DCU has gone to hell -- literally. Hell has frozen over, and the heroes must restore demonkind back to its rightful place, stop the hell-powered bad guys, and keep human life to a minimum.</p><p>This is a story that happened in between the stuff that made it onto the panels. What were the reporters doing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live Coverage

~Omigod, Omigod, there are demons filling the sky and we only have one  
hero on the island and he's overwhelmed because he's alone. If I didn't  
miss the Kid already, I surely would now...now that we need him. But the  
media turned against him and he left. I guess I can't blame him. He's  
probably somewhere now fighting with Young Justice, protecting the  
innocent. He may be an arrogant ball of teenage ego, but he does have a  
good heart.~

"This is Tana Moon, reporting from Hawaii, as the islanders prepare for  
the worst. According to all sources from such reliable places as STAR  
Labs, LexCorp, WayneTech and the Cadmus Institute -- Hell has frozen over.  
That resulting condition has precipitated a flood of demons as they seek  
warmer climes. We've received reports from all over the world, but here  
in Hawaii, the demons have sought to restore the warmth they're used to  
by reactivating several of the state's dormant volcanoes!

"Silver Sword is working alone, tirelessly, to prevent this disaster. Stay  
tuned with us for the latest!"

Off-camera, Tana glimpsed her cameraman frantically making the cutesy  
Hawaiian "Hang loose" gesture. She wondered if he meant it as  
encouragement, or just a reminder to her ... or himself.

*****

~Salt. He was turned into a pillar of salt. Dear God, he's no better  
than anyone else in this situation! If a demon cuts him, he'll bleed.  
If it drives a spike of brimstone through his heart ... he'll DIE.  
Please, God, if you're listening, watch over my Clark. I can't lose him  
again. I know I owe you more than I can ever repay for giving him back to  
me before -- so many times. But ... but please. Look out for him.~

Lois Lane typed frantically, racing the stinging tingle of tears behind  
her lashes. She was a reporter. She'd report the news. It was what she  
did. It was what Clark would expect of her. It was what Metropolis needed  
\-- someone who could keep a cool head and keep the information flowing at  
speed. She only wished she could get closer. But she knew it'd only  
distract Superman. Despite his best intentions, his heart often got the  
better of him -- and she did not need to be in the thick of things while  
he had so many other things on his mind.

 

*****

~Geez, these pictures are gonna win me a freakin' Pulitzer!~

Jimmy Olsen repeated that thought to himself over and over -- he let his  
instincts take over otherwise, snapping photographs of the demons  
besieging Metropolis. If he let himself *think,* he'd have to consider  
that one of his best friends had been turned into a pillar of salt (and  
then back again). He'd have to realize that he was nothing but a  
flesh-and-blood mortal man -- not Elastic Lad, not Turtle Boy -- just  
Jimmy Olsen, photographer, w ho could get his heart torn out just as  
easily as anyone else.

But he was a photojournalist, and he was dedicated to his job. He loved  
it and he would not back off. He'd stood around for Doomsday and had  
been one of the people who'd photographed the wreckage of Coast City.

~This too shall pass!~

And then, just like that, he had *two* thoughts to keep him going through  
the lightning flash of his camera shutter. He wouldn't let himself think  
about how glad he'd be to run out of film so he could get the hell out of  
here, and lock himself in his darkroom.

*****

~Arkham must be having a field day, as if the aftermath of the earthquake  
wasn't bad enough. Demons literally regurgitating from the bowels of  
hell, and I'm sure the Joker's trying to find somewhere to roast  
marshmallows.~

~...tra LA la la...tra LA la la! tra LA, la LA la, la LA la LA! ...~

~Eck. I *hate* the Skater's Waltz. Elevator music.~

~Yeah, well, I hate purple prose. You write for a *magazine*, Jack, not  
Penny Dreadful Quarterly.~

Jack Ryder looked down at his typewriter and realized that his thoughts  
had strayed again...and worse, the Creeper was sitting shotgun in his  
psyche again, offering colour commentary.

~Well, who asked you anyway?~

~If I have to sit up here and listen to you compose this crap, I am going  
to go insane! Oh, wait -- I'm already insane. Heh. Heh heh. Ha.  
Hahahaha!~

~You think you can do better, laughing boy?~ Jack realized that  
challenging the chaotic side of his psyche was probably ill-conceived in  
more ways than one, but he couldn't stop himself. ~C'mon, then. Bring it  
on.~

~I thought you'd NEVER ask.~

Jack slapped the subdermal switch on his inner arm and with a flash of  
energy and chemicals --the reporter was replaced by the laughing,  
yellow-skinned personification of mania -- the Creeper.

"Where DID I put those hockey skates?!" demanded the Creeper as he  
bounded toward Jack's closet. "Let the OTHER reporters cover all the  
MUNDANE crap here on earth, hmm? Hell's frozen over! On the spot  
coverage ! Live from the Infernal Ice Capades! WHOOOOO, NELLY!"

Jack was appalled. Appalled at the suggestion.

Even more appalled he hadn't thought of it himself.

 

\--end


End file.
